Happy New Year, Sweetheart
by JT4Life
Summary: Sequel to 'Merry Christmas, Olivia Dunham'. What do Olivia and Peter see when they look back on their year? A fun, fluffy piece to welcome in the new year!


_This is a continuation/a sequel of 'Merry Christmas, Olivia Dunham'. The response i got from that fic really motivated me to write more... thanks guys :) Enjoy this little new years fic. it's fluffy, it's lovey dovey, it's something I'd like to see happen some day on the show, maybe in a few seasons or so. I tried to incorporate a bunch of stuff from the past years, like lines, memorable moments, jokes among the fans, just generally fun stuff that, at least when i look back on it, makes me smile :D_

_Disclaimer: it's not mine, though i love em as if they were :)_

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**Happy New Year, Sweetheart**

The light in Olivia's office glowed dully, a sign that a new bulb was probably in order. God knows she used it enough to warrant a replacement so soon. The only thing that puzzled Olivia was why exactly it was on. She stood in the empty lab, head tilted slightly to the side in perplexity. In one arm her jacket hung limp and damp from the slushy excuse for snow that had begun to fall from a dull, grey sky. It had soaked her through her clothes and chilled her to the very bone. Removing her jacket had been nearly pointless at the time, but now she thoroughly regretted her decision; the heater didn't seem to be working in the lab, and her every breath danced before her eyes in a shimmery mist before disappearing. Simply put, Olivia was exhausted and shivering, and the faint light that fanned through the semi-closed office blinds looked extremely inviting.

She walked up to the door and, hearing rustling noises coming form inside, knocked gently. The noises stopped and the door swung open, bright light spilling into the gloomy lab. Blinded, Olivia squinted, blinking furiously.

"Olivia?"

"Peter?" She put a hand up to shield her eyes. And sure enough, it was Peter who stood silhouetted in her office doorway, encased in warm light. "What are you doing here?"

"You're soaking wet," Peter commented, completely and, Olivia supposed, deliberately ignoring her question. "Come in, let me get that…" He stepped back and took her coat, which was trailing water droplets as he carried it across the small office and laid it out over the back of a chair to dry.

Olivia sat down on the edge of her desk, eyeing the bottle of bourbon sitting on her desk, the small 'Happy New Year!' banner strung up above the doorframe, and the open bag of balloons waiting to be inflated.

She eyed Peter curiously. "A party?"

He shrugged sheepishly, hands dug deep into his jean pockets. "Yeah, why not? For once we don't have a case," – he rapped twice on the wooden desk, which brought a smile to Olivia's lips – "and it's quarter past eleven on December thirty first. What better reason or opportunity to celebrate?"

"I could use a drink," she nodded, running a hand through her damp hair. A draft from the lab blew in out of nowhere and Olivia couldn't conceal her shiver.

"Did you jump in a lake before the rain could finish off the job?" he grinned and took off his own hoodie. "Here, wear this," Peter came up to her, almost close enough to pin her between himself and the desk, and pulled the hoodie around her shoulders; his hands lingered on the uneven drawstrings. "My God, you really are soaked to the skin. Do you want to change?"

Olivia's head snapped up and her eyes locked with his. She scanned his eyes for signs of mockery or misconduct, but all she found was worry and compassion. Ever since the afternoon they'd spent together on Christmas Eve, Olivia had established a deeper trust in Peter, and found that she was growing more and more comfortable around him by the day. It was freeing to know that they'd been able to connect by means of some obscure analogy and, in doing so, gain a better understanding of the other. It was something that, as far as Olivia was concerned, didn't come around often, and she didn't want to abuse or mistreat this new level of dependance, and with it, an insatiable need. For that is what it was – a discovery on both their parts that had drawn to the same conclusion: that they, no matter how tough their outer shells may be, needed and relied on each other.

"I won't look, I promise," Peter smiled kindly at her apparent discomfort and gently touched his thumbs to her rosy cheeks before stepping away and moving to the opposite side of the office.

"What am I supposed to wear?" Olivia asked as she removed the faded grey sweater. Then she noted the lettering on the front. "Just you're MIT hoodie?" She grinned wholeheartedly, knowing that Peter would be able to hear it in her words.

"I told you it was for the ladies," Peter replied over his shoulder with a chuckle, one that Olivia copied and couldn't conceal from his ears.

"So, is this an exclusive party, or are we expecting guests?" Olivia asked as she swiftly removed her blouse, grabbing the hoodie and fumbling with it in her efforts to remain exposed as little as possible.

"Just you, me, and maybe Walter and Astrid. They're supposed to be out grabbing some food to go with our booze," he grinned, "but you never know with that man. It might just be the two of us."

"It's ok," she replied as she finally managed to pull the sweater over her head. It smelled just like Peter, and the aroma was both suffocating and comforting. Not that she kept track of _exactly_ how he smelled….

Trying to wipe the silly grin off her face, one that was a byproduct of getting to wear a prized article of Peter's clothing, Olivia straightened up and draped her wet blouse across another of the simple wooden chairs. Her slacks weren't too wet, thankfully. Besides, those should probably stay on....

"You can turn around now," she announced a little awkwardly.

Peter turned and immediately broke into a smile at the sight of her in his oversized sweatshirt. "You could wear it as a dress, I bet."

Olivia glanced down and made a face at the hemline that scarcely made it halfway down her thighs. "It barely qualifies as an oversized t-shirt, much less a dress."

"Still," Peter sauntered up to her desk, pouring them each a glass of bourbon, smiling gently, "it looks good on you."

He held up his glass and they clinked them together in a silent toast as they leaned casually against the side of her desk. Olivia knew by this time that she was blushing, but let the alcohol wash her anxieties away.

"Hit me, bartender," she grinned, already feeling the familiar burning warmth in her throat as the alcohol invaded her system.

Peter eyed her warily, finishing his own drink and refilling both their glasses. "Is there somewhere you need to be that I'm unaware of, a pressing appointment or something?"

Olivia downed her second glass in two gulps, relishing in the simple pleasure of getting to drink with a friend and not have to worry about, well anything. "Peter, this is how I drink when I'm seriously in need of getting myself drunk."

Peter laughed. "Now, if _I_ drink too much tonight and can't remember saying this tomorrow, remind me to never, _ever_ say that two's you maximum."

Olivia laughed too, thinking fondly back to that evening in the Cambridge bar, just two 'siblings' out for drinks. She'd nearly forgotten about that sibling act they'd done…

"Hey Peter," Olivia said slowly, holding her glass out for another refill. "I never got to ask you something about that night at the bar, you know, when we did all those card tricks?"

"Yeah?" Peter served Olivia's third, quickly succeeded by a fourth, and swished his own drink around in his glass.

"Why were you so put out about the whole 'sibling' thing? I never really got to ask you." Olivia eyed him curiously over the rim of her glass as she took a sip.

Peter took a swig and shrugged. "I guess it never occurred to me to go undercover as siblings, the idea of a couple was the only thing that jumped into my mind. It makes more sense you know," he added. "A dazzling young couple like us," Peter paused to casually wrap an arm around Olivia's shoulders, making her giggle, "would be more plausible to be seen hanging out in a bar together, impressing each other with card tricks."

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "Point taken." Then she giggled abruptly as her inhibitions began to slip away due to alcohol and her willingness to try and let loose.

"What?" Peter grinned and gave her shoulders a quick squeeze with the arm that was still draped around her frame.

"I was just thinking how ridiculous we must have looked in there," Olivia laughed and sipped her drink. "I mean…" she gestured helplessly, "we tell the bar tender that we're brother and sister, and then you called me _babe_."

Peter's eyebrows shot up in mock amazement. "Oh I did, did I?"

Olivia nodded in assurance, mimicking his wide eyes. "Yup, you did. Right after I told you all the safe numbers."

Peter nodded slowly, tipping his head towards hers in a way that would have sent off alarms in Olivia's head had she been a little more sober. "I guess I did."

Now their eyes were locked. Olivia wasn't willing to back down from his stare, and neither did she want to. "So why did you call me that? Since we were supposed to be brother and sister and all."

"If memory serves, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing," Peter reminisced, though his eyes didn't stray from hers. "And because I think 'sweetheart' is getting a bit old, and why not change it up a bit?"

Olivia smiled back, shaking her head. "That's one that I'll _never_ get tired of."

"Very well… _sweetheart_," Peter pulled her in for a side hug and Olivia happily wrapped her arm around his waist. She didn't pull away, laying her head in that special spot on Peter's chest where he could easily rest his head against hers.

"Oh Peter…" she sighed. It was all she needed, just to be held by someone, someone special. It was all that she never asked for, but Peter seemed to provide for her anyways. "We've had a good year, right? I mean, aside from the mutants, near death experiences, and all the other insane stuff we've dealt with, it's been pretty good, hasn't it?"

"That it has… because look where we are now. We're still here, despite all of," he flailed a hysterical hand in the air, "_that_ stuff. We made it, Olivia. Me," he pointed a hand at his chest, "and you."

Olivia closed her eyes and grinned as Peter's finger gently touched the tip of her nose. "That we did."

A faint _beep, beep, beep_ reached her ears and they both looked down at the source of the noise. Peter's watch was flashing 12:00 AM.

Their gazes met again, and Olivia saw a unique gleam dancing in Peter's beautiful, unguarded eyes.

"Happy New year, Peter."

"Happy New Year, sweetheart."

And then, as naturally as if they did it everyday, Peter's lips swooped down and captured hers, sweetly and gently. Olivia smiled against his lips and, when they eventually pulled apart, took a moment to just gaze at him, his eyes, his lips, the adorable stubble that she'd always wanted to just brush her fingers against. Knowing that the opportunity probably wouldn't present itself again for a while, she succumbed to her yearning, lightly touching her fingertips to his cheek. Peter offered her a small smile, taking her hand into his. Olivia wasn't even aware that she'd discarded her liquor glass at some earlier point. He pulled her into his chest again, and Olivia closed her eyes, simply, utterly content.

One thing was palpably apparent – she was getting really fond of spending all this time in Peter's arms.

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_A very happy New Year each and every one of you; may this year be the birthplace for wonderful new beginnings!! I'm hoping mine will ;)_

_xoxo_


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